


Steve Harrington is the World's Fucking Best Dad - A Series.

by ultrafreakyfangirl



Series: In which Steve Harrington is the world's fucking best dad [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Other, Steve Harrington being the actual best dad ever, Steve is such a dad to those kids already, and here we find out, ft Nancy being a sweet mom, guys like seriously can you imagine, or how I picture him being anyways, what is he gonig to be like with his own children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 19:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrafreakyfangirl/pseuds/ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: Just as the title says. One shots depicting Steve's relationships with his own children he has with Nancy. Because I shamelessly ship Stancy and won't ever give up on them lowkey. Sprinkled here and there with cute fluffy Stancy moments, but Steve x his children centric.





	Steve Harrington is the World's Fucking Best Dad - A Series.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey-yo! I've been thinking about this way too much since finishing ST3. That line "dingus, your children are here!" was the main inspiration, so thank you, Robin, and you will be featured here, not to worry. #CoolAuntRobin. Just a quick note, this follows the other fic I wrote that was not canon compliant about Nancy getting pregnant at 17. 
> 
> Readers, please tell me what you think! And in addition to that, if you have any moments between Steve and one or all of his children you want written, or Stancy family fluff, let me know! :) Enjoy.

**_Monsters and Thomas the Tank Engine_ **

* * *

“Daddy?”

A small, fragile voice, like glass, brought him out of his half-asleep state. He mumbled first in response, was sure that Nancy had already made it to his bedroom already – because ever since that false alarm with the Mind Flayer a couple months ago he swore she hasn’t slept since; but still, she manages to look beautiful, even first thing in the morning, his _pretty girl_ , damn he was so lucky, so _stupidly_ in love like the _big sap_ he was because of her –

“Daddy!?”

Breaking into his stream of consciousness was that voice again, pitchy and urgent, the epitome of a child – his son, at only two years old, just got his big boy bed and he fell quickly in love with it, sleeping through the night consistently and even from that first day; wow, was he proud, so, _so_ _proud_ of that little boy who shared his eyes and the beginnings of that Harrington hair.

“Hey there, kid, what’s going on, hm?”

Looking at him now, Steve welled up with emotion, thick and strong, nearly making him cry. As much as he looked like his daddy, there were bits of his mommy that often took him by surprise. She was in his bone structure, that dainty sharpness of his cheekbones, sweet auburn freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, and eyelashes for miles. There were things that made him not just his, or not just hers, but _theirs._

“You have a bad dream or something?” Steve asked, moving his hand up and down that small, little, back, warm and flushed underneath his _Thomas the Tank Engine_ pyjama top.

He left a gentle kiss where his hair stuck up the most and let his lips linger for a minute, the sickly scent of Nancy’s _coconut, Moroccan oil something or other_ shampoo taking him by surprise. They must have ran out of that kids’ strawberry stuff and realized it too late.

Christopher nodded. “Mhm.”

His thumb found its way into his mouth, and although he knew that Nancy would scold him for it later, for now, he just let it be. He pushed those wispy bangs off of his forehead, his palm never straying too far from his son’s skin, a tan beginning in the early days of summer.

“Do you want to tell me about it? I’m a pretty great listener.”

Suddenly, Christopher looked fearful, his expression changing, his eyes flashing, forehead crinkling. Even before the word left those spittle coated lips, parted just enough to speak around his thumb, Steve knew it was coming.

“No.”

Steve sighed. He hiked the little boy up higher on his hip, echoing the motion a couple times, and in quick succession, in hope to make him smile. No such luck.

“Come on, buddy,” Steve spoke against the blanket softness of his cheek, still harboring that sweet, chunky baby fat. “I promise if you tell me about it, it won’t seem so bad. You’ll see.”

Just as Steve was about to give up and call for reinforcement, she was miraculously still sleeping (because he’d finally convinced her to take some melatonin, that if Christopher woke up, he’d take care of it – _and he was_ ), Christopher spoke up.

“Monsters.”

“Monsters, huh? Well I’ll have you know, little man, Daddy is the champ at fighting monsters.”

Christopher stared in awe at him, but still, looked a bit doubtful. “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve nodded, sighing gratefully when his son let go of his arms the moment his feet touched the ground, “And you know what the trick is?”

“What?”

Steve grinned at him, and Christopher grinned back, probably confused as to why he was smiling but wanting to mimic the expression anyways. It was a natural human instinct, and it made him happy, thinking that his little boy was learning these things _on time._ He’d have to remember to tell Nancy tomorrow, she was always paranoid about his development relative to the other kids in his playgroup.

Steve ruffled his hair and relished in the way Christopher’s eyes sparkled. Those baby blues he’d fallen fast and hard for. Seeing a carbon copy of them on his son made that love intensify tenfold. It amazed him how much he could love two people, and it felt like it would never stop amazing him because that love grew exponentially every day. Every minute. Every, _fucking,_ _second._

“You just gotta yell at them. Are they here, in your room?”

He looked around at the baby blue walls, the definition of a gender conforming cliché he and Nancy meant to change but never got around to doing when they switched the crib out for a child’s bed, the rest of the room dark and ominous, made even more so by the _Thomas the Tank Engine_ nightlight fixated in the outlet across from the bed.

“Yeah.” Christopher nodded meekly, and Steve nodded too.

“Okay, you ready to yell?”

Christopher’s eyes narrowed into a determined expression and he bit his bottom lip, removing his thumb from his mouth in an almost confident act of heroism. “Ready, Daddy.”

Steve smiled and reached for his hand and squeezed, nearly overcome with emotion again when the little boy squeezed back.

Together, they yelled. Their voices mingling. One precious and innocent, the other marred by tragedy and memories of things he would rather forget, because _monsters were a real bitch._

It didn’t take long for Nancy to march down the hallway and into their little boy’s room with a scowl on her face. Steve noticed her first, luckily, so she’d have time to remedy that expression before their son saw.

“Hey, pretty girl. Did we wake you?”

Nancy just grumbled.

“Don’t you _pretty girl_ me Steve Harrington. It’s three in the morning and you two are in here screaming like a bunch of banshees probably waking up the whole neighborhood.”

She gestured to the window. “Christopher’s window is open, genius.”

Sure enough, when Steve looked over towards the window, as if by sheer impish thrill, the wind blew in and touched his face. He shrugged. “Whoops.”

Nancy just grumbled some more and went over to Christopher, locking eyes with him. The kid already looked remorseful. He’s got a conscience on him, which was probably ninety-nine percent his fiancée.

“Now what in god’s name is the matter here, sweet boy? What is all this yelling about?”

Christopher looked over to him for reassurance and he winked with a subtle smirk on his face.

“Me and Daddy and were yelling. To get monsters to go away. Daddy said that’s how you do it.”

At the word _monsters_ , Steve could see Nancy’s heartbeat quicken even from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. She has to know that it’s just a kid’s dream, right? But by the way her face was blanching it didn’t seem like it. So, he rushed to reassure her.

“Pretty girl, Christopher was just having a bad dream. It’s nothing like…”

Steve trailed off. He wanted to say _‘nothing like you’re thinking’_ but their son was observant, too observant for his own good, and he’d curse Nancy for that, so he kept it at quiet. She’d understand. She always did.

When Christopher was calm, Nancy tucked him back in and said her goodnights, kissing him square on the mouth and telling him he’d see her in the morning, before she left. Steve went to do the same.

“Love you, buddy. I’ll see you in the morning okay. And remember, if there are ever monsters around again, who are you going to call?”

Steve felt Christopher’s heavy, warm breath on his face, smelling of staleness and peanut butter from his bedtime snack. His nose crinkled against Steve’s as he smiled. “Daddy.”

“That’s right. I’ll be the best monster butt kicking sidekick you’re ever going to have, yeah?”

Christopher nodded in agreement. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, buddy.”


End file.
